


Ignition

by m_jeevas



Category: Naruto
Genre: Festivals, First Time, M/M, SasoDei Week 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:34:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29636793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_jeevas/pseuds/m_jeevas
Summary: There’s an intrinsic difference, though. They never have and never will be normal. Settled deep in the crooked smirk that’s always pulled across Deidara’s lips, or the manic look that shines in Sasori’s eyes, they’ve separated themselves. “We have dreams, friends, and places that we can call home, hm,” Deidara continues. “We’re just people.”SasoDei Week 2021 Day 1: First Time
Relationships: Deidara & Sasori (Naruto), Deidara/Sasori (Naruto)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12
Collections: SasoDei Week 2021





	Ignition

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything for these guys in SO LONG. Sasori and Deidara was the first pairing to really get me into fanfiction, so I'm excited to write a couple one shots for these guys and take a trip down memory lane a little bit lol. Feel free to comment, or just say hi on my tumblr: m-jeevas.tumblr.com :)

Steam curls up, sinking into the rough pores of Deidara’s face. He hasn’t relaxed like this in how long? Months, almost a year, maybe. He tilts his head back and exhales, focusing on the stars that litter the night sky. Underneath the water, a towel sits on his lap, covering him. 

He’s a murderer, not a savage, and decides that around the other people in here he’d like to maintain some sense of decency. While he sits, the water laps against his skin, forming ripples as it lulls against him and bounces back. 

Where’s Sasori?

Useless.

_Kill me if I age enough to get that fucking boring._ They came all the way here for what, for his partner to sit in his room like a lazy old man?

Whatever, makes no difference to him. Deidara stretches out, hearing the satisfying pops in his back when he stretches before settling back into the steaming water. 

Their dynamic is still something new, something the both of them are adjusting to. Neither of them are used to working in teams, and neither of them are particularly good at compromise. Still, there’s things that Deidara uses to his advantage, and surely, Sasori does to his.

For Deidara, it’s that he _knows_ he annoys the piss out of his partner. Doesn’t hurt that some of the touches that Sasori places against his back or his arms linger a little too long and a little too tender.

You can be irritated by someone and still want to fuck them, right?

And puppet body or not, Sasori was fucking _attractive_. Could have been the teenage hormones talking. But hey, if he’s going to be in an eternal puppet body, might as well make himself look halfway decent. Deidara can’t blame him for that.

He sinks a little lower into the water and exhales slowly. Needs to relax to keep his head on straight.

This village is incredible. The sounds of the streets bustle around the spa--excitement for an upcoming festival. That, at least, Sasori will have to join him for. If he says no, Deidara decides he’ll pretend to throw a fit to get his way. His partner will either go out of pity, or to shut him the fuck up. Doesn’t make a difference to him which one it is.

He sits with his eyes closed, enjoying the rare treat of relaxation until he’s a little too dehydrated and he decides that he better get moving. Sasori will take a while to wear down, and he doesn’t want to miss a second of the festivities. After all, how often will the two of them be able to do something like this?

Back in their cramped room at the local in, Deidara tosses his Akatsuki cloak on the bed, then his fishnet top and the crop top that sat over it.

“ _Danna_!”

Sasori’s not used to the yelling yet and comes pounding out of the bathroom, kunai in hand and bloodlust in his eyes.

“Woah, woah, just trying to get your attention, hm,” Deidara’s reassuring him with his hands up. Won’t be the first time he almost got stabbed and definitely won’t be the last.

“You should _know_ not to do that by now.”

“Yeah, but you don’t listen to me otherwise, hm.”  
“And why do you think that is?”

He completely ignores the question. “Having a rough time in there, hm?”

Usually, Sasori would go into a whole tangent of why, logically, that didn’t make any sense. That he has no use for any bodily function, never mind _those_ ones. Instead, he’s tucking his kunai away and snarling. “You want me to stab you?”

Deidara grins, shrugs, and plops himself down on the bed. “Maybe later.” Expecting to bounce slightly, it’s a disappointment when the mattress is too firm and too worn down to do much of anything. Really got what they paid for this time. “There’s a festival downtown, hm.”

“We’re not here to see a festival. We’re here so you can show me that you’re not absolutely incompetent.”

“We can get to that, too, hm!” Deidara insists. “But why not have some fun while we have the time? We’ll get some food or something, hm. There’s so many stands, we can get anything we want!”

Sasori’s furrowing his brow, looking more disgusted than distressed. “What makes you think that would appeal to me?”

Deidara can’t help rolling his eyes. “C’mon, you’re killing my vibe, _danna_. Just do one of those jutsus to turn yourself back for a bit, hm.”

“Deidara, it doesn’t work that way,” Sasori’s trying to explain calmly, as he’s already explained a thousand times, and he can feel his jaw is clenching and how harsh his teeth grit together when he’s done talking.

Pain in the ass.

Deidara chews on the inside of his mouth, calculating. Either way, this isn’t going to be too hard.

“Are you telling me you don’t know how to do it, hm?” He knows that’ll take care of it. If not, just a few more jabs and he’ll get there. Whether he’s better than Sasori in combat or not is one thing, but he knows he can get under the older man’s skin like no one else.

The redhead knows he’s being baited, but he knows that as stubborn as he is, Deidara isn’t going to shut it. He’s set in his ways, but it’s nothing against the stubbornness that comes with youth. “Alright, alright, give me a minute.”

With a flurry of hand signs, he materializes himself into a form that’s all too familiar and all too human.

“See, hm?” Deidara tuts, throwing a punch that hits Sasori lopsided on the shoulder. Idiot. He’s not used to the contact and shirks away slightly. There’s usually sensations in the middle of his chest in the few remaining organs that he has, but like this, he’s unfamiliar of the rush of blood that flows through his whole body, the sensation of touch crawling across every inch of his skin. “That’s the spirit, loosen up and have some fun for once, hm!”

It’s not unpleasant, but it’s vulnerable, and those things are all but hand in hand for him.

“You know what’ll help, hm?” Deidara’s digging through his bag before Sasori can answer, dangling a bottle of sake in front of him. “Old guys love drinking this shit, right?”

Sasori’s exasperated, pinching at the bridge of his nose and breathing out a frustrated huff of air. “You _fucking_ brat, did you steal that?” Deidara, they both know, isn’t of age to even go to a bar, never mind buy alcohol on his own.

“Of course I stole it, hm! You think that’s not on the table for someone like me?” Sasori’s about to argue that it’s irresponsible, that if they’re going to get caught by Anbu or anyone else, it shouldn’t be because Deidara’s decided that he’s going to have some sticky fingers around a cheap bottle of booze. But even when he starts chastising, Deidara’s ignoring him and taking a swig straight out of the bottle before thrusting it into his hands.

“I’m not drinking this.”

Deidara sighs, overdramatic, throwing himself back first on the bed. The groan that seeps from his throat is childish, grating, and fucking _annoying_. “I’m going to throw a _fit_ , hm,” he’s warning, half pouting and half smiling until he sees Sasori bring the bottle to his lips.

It tastes fucking awful. Still, Deidara’s telling him to drink more, prompted with a “Come on, it’s not _that_ bad, it’s so much better to be around all of these people once you take the edge off, hm.”

Sasori never takes his fucking edge off. But he does, in fact, drink more when Deidara pulls two yukatas out of the shopping bag he’d dragged back with them earlier. He’s about to complain, but he catches sight of his partner’s _I’m going to throw a fit_ look shining again in his ice blue eyes and reaches out for the garment with a defeated sigh.

“You _have_ to change here?” Sasori grumbles, because Deidara’s clothes are already off minus a pair of boxer-briefs.

His partner has no shame. Instead, he winks at Sasori and gives a slight spin to show off the rest of his frame. He’s wiry with trained muscle, chest decorated with the sealed chest-mouth that Sasori’s come into contact with more than enough times to be comfortable. “Don’t like what you see, hm?”

He’s staring too long and they both know it.

_Of course I don’t mind what I’m looking at_.

“Just hurry up.” He’s looking away, not used to the burning sensation that prickles at his face.

When Sasori turns around to change, it’s not like Deidara’s any better. If anything, his gawking is intentionally obvious, the way he shifts around the room to peer at his partner.

Idiot.

By the time they hit the festival, Deidara’s cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and he’s even _louder_ than usual. And he insists on doing _everything_ , whether Sasori complains about it or not. He’s roped into paying for their food, because otherwise, Deidara insisted that he’s “just going to swipe it when no one was looking, hm.”

For the amount of people crowded around them, that wasn’t possible without a skirmish.

Better to have Kakuzu chew his ear off for spending too much than to risk a run in with the authorities.

“Let’s do goldfish scooping, hm!” Deidara insists only moments after he’s inhaled what has to be his third meal of the evening, all but dragging his partner over to one of the stands.

Sasori’s trying to pull away, but for how thin Deidara is, he’s got a steel grip and a hell of a lot more strength than he was expecting. “Seriously? That’s a waste of money.”

Still, Deidara’s holding his hand out for a few coins, and Sasori ends up relenting, pressing them into the palms of the man in charge of the game’s stand.

Of course, he catches a fucking fish.

Where the hell are they going to put it? Sasori takes a deep breath. Should have drank more, he finds himself yhinking for the first time in years.

It’s almost a blessing that a little girl sobs in the corner, her torn up paper net splayed with no prize to show.

Sasori’s eyes flick over in irritation, but Deidara’s on one knee, placing his prize into her open palms. Inside of a knotted plastic bag, a fish that will probably be dead by the next day swims around and around in helpless circles. 

“Here, hm,” he grunts. “You’ll take better care of it than I will.” 

Her face lights up with a glow, but Sasori is scowling when his partner makes his way back over. “The fuck is the point of that?” the redhead sneers, but Deidara shrugs.

“What am I going to do with it? I don’t give a shit, hm. Stop being so cranky.”

Sasori rolls his eyes. The sooner they could get out of here the better.

Deidara, on the other hand, is having the time of his life. 

The festival is scheduled to end with fireworks. Sasori knows because Deidara will not, for the life of him, shut the fuck up about it. So many different colors, he keeps saying. And the grand finale will be something to die for.

He doesn’t know exactly what that entails, but there’s a worrisome way his partner’s eyes light up, a wild mania that he’s only used to seeing in himself. Deidara’s loud, Deidara’s a pain in the ass, and Deidara, from the look that shines in his cerulean eyes, is unstable.

An instability that Sasori finds absolutely fascinating and irresistible.

“Fine, _God_ ,” he finally caves, carding fingers through his hair to try and calm himself down. “We’ll stick around for the fireworks. But we’re watching them outside the village. Got it?” 

Deidara’s face lit up almost immediately, a wide smile pulling at his lips. He’s nearly jumping up and down, absolutely elated. “Dan _na_! I promise you won’t be disappointed. They’re _beautiful._ Back in Iwagakure, this was my favorite time of year, hm.”

They’d already walked all over the village, and Deidara’s put his hands on almost everything he could touch. Looked at all of the shops, the food stalls, anything he could get himself near. He rustles with his sleeves every once in a while, and Sasori can only imagine what the fuck he’s going to brag that he swiped by the time they’re out of there.

It’s more the rambling about his background that Sasori’s attention. Very rarely, if ever, does his partner talk about his homeland. “Is that so?” he prompts, and Deidara grasps right onto the opening. _And this idiot still has to show me what he can do. Terrorist for hire my ass._

“They’d light up the whole sky. The explosion corps set it up every year, it was unbelievable, hm,” Deidara gushes. Intentional or not, his arm is slipping around Sasori’s elbow, their hands brushing together for an instant. An instant enough for one of the mouths on his palm to sweep out and lap at the spaces between his fingers.

The sensation is wet, tingling, and a little too much, but Deidara’s clinging onto him just hard enough that it’ll be obvious if he tries to jerk away.

“Was that what made you want to join the corps?” Sasori inquires, fascinated by this rare bit of Deidara’s past. Was this kid really part of such an elite sector of Iwagakure’s ninjas?  
“Of course, hm. You’d understand if you saw it. I’d sneak back just to see it if I could.” They both know, of course, that it’s out of the question. Tonight will have to do in its place. “I have a feeling tonight will be something special, though, hm.”

Sasori’s mind wanders to his own past. “I’ve never seen an event like this. Sunagakure isn’t exactly known for its festivities.”

“ _Really_ , hm?” 

“We were at war. These things are reserved for normal people, don’t you think?”

For a rare instant, his partner is silent.

“We’re like anyone else, hm,” Deidara then says. By now, they’ve made their way out of the village, trekking along the outskirts as they chat. Moonlight pours over them, glistening against Deidara’s crystalline blue irises. His face is rounded and tender, something that despite his aggravating personality, Sasori can’t help but admire. 

There’s an intrinsic difference, though. They never have and never will be normal. Settled deep in the crooked smirk that’s always pulled across Deidara’s lips, or the manic look that shines in Sasori’s eyes, they’ve separated themselves. “We have dreams, friends, and places that we can call home, hm,” Deidara continues. “We’re just people.” 

Sasori can’t remember the last time he’d felt like a proper person.

Even now, flesh and blood, he feels like an anomaly.

Hey, no skin off his back.

The night sky sparkles quietly, settling in a serene glow over the village. Paint lies cracked and smudged across the Deiara’s face from an amateur face painting session gone wrong, and he gives Sasori a twisted, feral grin. What part of him has always been different? There’s something always bubbling within him—no, both of them. Malice, an anger that can never be satiated. 

Bloodlust.

Sasori hums in dull agreement. Pein had paired him with this hindrance for a reason, can they just speed it up a little bit? “Are we the same?” he muses, the words thick rolling off his tongue. Is Deidara his family? He’s infuriating, reckless, far too much energy for any human to rightfully have.

Deidara barks out a piercing laugh. “No, hm. I’m fucking with you.” He sounds like a hyena, howling at the moon. Shit, someone’s bound to hear them. The village has guards. Even the moon, silent, is agitated at his imposition. 

Still, Deidara sways in the cool evening light, hair billowing down his back and his yukata wrapped tight around his frame. He’s young.

He’s infuriating.

He’s the most beautiful thing that Sasori has ever seen.

This idiot better be showing off something incredible.

Deidara twirls himself around on one foot, suddenly somber. Through hooded eyes and a twisted smirk, he stares almost straight through his older partner. “We _are_ different,” he whispers. “The world has bred us into the monsters they hate, hm.” 

The flicker in his eye is something different, snapping in the complete opposite direction of the bright-eyed expression he’d had on at the start of the evening. His eyes are darker, jaded, Sasori has to swallow a few times, the saliva thick and unfamiliar in his mouth. From joyful to manic to lethal.

Something’s off.

“What did you do?”

Sasori sees his partner age in a matter of seconds. Pulling away, his feet snap themselves against the ground, fingers fluttering rapidly in a sequence of hand signs. Deidara slips closer to him again, until face is close, _too close,_ to Sasori’s. Hot, tantalizing breath tickled his lips.

God. _God_. 

“Why do you think we spent so much time walking around?”

Deidara leans further, and for whatever reason, Sasori lets him. Their lips press together and at first, it’s too warm, too soft, but he finds himself leaning into the display, parting his mouth when Deidara pushes his tongue flush against his partner’s lower lip.

The heat pools between his legs in an unfamiliar throb, and he feels Deidara smile against him before pulling away.

This is going to come back to bite him in the ass.

In his hands, Deidara flashes miniscule spheres of clay. Small enough that they could have been scattered about without much notice.

_Oh_. _That’s what you did_.

There’s a final flutter of his hands, the sign of the rabbit, and Deidara lets his head fall against Sasori’s shoulder. 

“ _Katsu_ ,” he whispers, and in an instant, the peaceful town beneath them erupts into an explosion of flame and despair.


End file.
